


God Doesn't Know You Like I Do

by luckie_dee



Category: Glee, Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckie_dee/pseuds/luckie_dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://facethefall.tumblr.com/">Nikki</a> prompted: Blaine tying Darren up with the lanyards from Darren's tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Doesn't Know You Like I Do

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Semi-RPF. Darren's potty mouth. Condoms not being used in a situation where they should be used. The following things are discussed or happen in this fic: frotting, handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, light bondage, shades of D/s, the author's attempts to fuck with power dynamics, facials, other minor comeplay, and spanking. Brief reference to recreational drug use, though none happens in the fic.
> 
> **A/N:** So clearly this is very AU. A few notes up front: Blaine has never met Kurt (or hasn't met him yet), never transferred to McKinley, and is largely though not completely sexually inexperienced. Darren isn't on Glee (because it doesn't exist), but he's gotten famous enough through YouTube, Starkid, other television appearances(?), and his own music to do a nationwide tour. Thank you so so so much to [Nikki](http://facethefall.tumblr.com/) for the prompt, and as always, to [Lindsey](http://controlofwhatido.tumblr.com/) for the beta! <3 Title from "Mint" by Kathleen Edwards.

The first time Darren sees the guy is at the meet and greet. He’s near the front for the line-em-up-knock-em-down-hi-nice-to-meet-you-thanks-for-coming one, but the lights are low in the curtained-off area they’re using for pictures, so Darren can’t really see the fans very well until they’re right on top of him. 

His first clue that something bizarre is going on is the look on Molly’s face. She’s motioning the next VIP forward with her usual welcoming smile, but underneath that, she seems confused and almost kind of freaked out. Darren narrows his eyes at her briefly before turning to face the guy, and… whoa, okay, maybe there’s a good reason for the weirdness.

Because they’re motherfucking identical.

Darren blinks. There’s no reason for his perception of reality to be impaired today, and — he blinks again — his vision is just fine too. No worse than usual, anyway. And the fan walking up to him is definitely wearing his face. Darren’s so busy rearranging his expression into something more normal that he almost misses it when Molly introduces the guy with, “This is Blaine.”

“Blaine. Hey, man,” Darren greets him, keeping his voice steady as he moves forward into a hug, just like he always does. 

And they are _exactly the same height_. 

“Hi,” Blaine’s voice sounds next to his ear, noticeably higher and softer than Darren’s. But not really all that different either.

There’s a quick scritching of fingernails against Darren’s shoulder blade, one that he feels almost at the exact moment that he tightens his own fingers to do the same. He startles, and tries to disguise it as a squeeze before he steps back. “It’s nice to meet you,” Darren says, glad that he has some sort of script to stick to. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

When he gets a better look, Darren can see that maybe they’re not _identical_ identical. He quickly catalogs a few differences: the guy doesn’t seem like he’s any older than eighteen or nineteen, his hair is all slicked down, he’s wearing his watch on the opposite wrist, and their wardrobe is definitely different. Darren can’t remember ever wearing a skintight polo shirt and a bow tie to a concert, anyway.

But that’s about all that’s readily apparent. The fan’s eyes are big and excited, letting Darren see clearly that they’re the same color as his. (He’s giving Darren a wide-eyed, adoring gaze that he sees a lot, but it’s really just fucking weird when it’s _his own face_ doing the gazing.) Their hair is the same color, just styled differently. They have similar builds — Darren might be a little more filled out, but he might not be. It’s hard to tell when he’s trying to actually listen to what the guy is saying and not just straight-up gape. 

“Thank _you_ ,” the fan — Blaine — says, his voice so earnest that it almost tips over into sarcasm, but Darren doesn’t think it is because just _look_ at this guy. It would be like Bambi trying to shit him. “I can’t begin to describe how much your music means to me. I’ve listened to ‘Not Alone’ so many times…” His voice trails away, and he ducks his head. Maybe he’s blushing. It’s too dark to tell for sure.

“Thanks, man,” Darren replies, filling the silence but still feeling twitchy because they’re basically just thanking each other on a loop and they’re _pretty much identical_. He manages to keep his voice neutral anyway. “That’s why I do it, you know? For you. That means so much. Let’s take a picture, yeah?”

It’s all over really quickly after that: they nearly punch each other when they each try to sling an arm around the other’s shoulders using the exact same motion at the exact same height, Liam snaps a picture, and Blaine thanks him one last time before moving on. Darren resists the urge glance back over his shoulder, and he hears Liam mutter, “Well, that was weird” as he turns to greet a round-faced boy with a huge grin on his face. “This is Trent,” Molly says.

*

The whole thing unnerves Darren so much that he has a hard time getting into his pre-show zone. He was happy, when they were planning the tour, that he’d be able to give a few seconds of his time to as many people as possible. He’s always wished that it could be a few seconds _more_ , but not nearly as much as he does now. Because he has _questions_ for this guy. Like, if this guy is a fan, he has to have noticed, right? And doesn’t that make it weird? Is one of them secretly adopted? And does that make one of them the evil twin, and is this the start of a horror movie?

Finally, while the stage is being reset after Theo’s done rocking out, he grabs the venue manager. “Listen,” he says conspiratorially, “there’s a guy here tonight. He looks like me. A lot like me, but he’s wearing a bow tie. Would you be able to get him backstage after the show?” 

She blinks at him. “Of course, Mr. Criss. If you could just give me a little more detail to help me find him…”

“He’ll be near the front; he was in the VIP line. Uh, you’ll know him when you see him. He looks _a lot_ like me,” he repeats lamely, not wanting to sound too crazy. He could very well _be_ crazy at this point, but they might not let him on stage if they think he’s actually, certifiably insane. “Different hair.”

She nods briskly and that’s that. He has a few minutes to pull himself together when the lights go down and the crowd noise amps up; he steadfastly uses it to _not_ second-guess himself, and then he jogs onstage.

*

Darren finds him during the second song. He’s close: just a few feet to Darren’s right, with only two teenage girls separating him from the barricade, his face upturned and rapturous. It’s just as startling to see as it was the first time, and Darren instinctively jerks his head up to sing out to the crowd instead. He looks back a few seconds later, though, curiously, and it’s just in time to see the round-faced guy — Brent? — dig an elbow into his ribs. Blaine drops his eyes, squirming and muttering to his friend. Or boyfriend. Darren isn’t really sure, and he knows his fanbase — it’s just as likely to be one as it is the other.

He should probably look away again. But, well, sometimes he just can’t help himself. Lots of people in his life have told him that he’s a little shit, and they’re not entirely wrong. Darren waits a beat, singing through a smirk, until Blaine lifts his head again, and then he winks, catching sight of Blaine’s mouth falling open before he redirects his attention elsewhere.

Darren always makes it a point to play to the entire crowd, all the way back to the balcony. He tries to make as many people feel included as he can. Today though, he keeps looking down and to the right, finding his own face in the crowd. Blaine gets noticeably flustered when Darren holds his eye for more than a split second — his eyelashes flutter as he shifts his own gaze around, only to look back up at Darren wonderingly, each and every time.

It’s not _not_ adorable. And kind of weirdly addictive. So Darren does it again. And again. It really helps him get over the hey-this-is-fucking-weird of it all.

When it comes time for Darren to scan the crowd, pretending to search for the evening’s pre-selected Picture Perfect Girl — who’s standing, as it happens, on the right side of the stage — he takes the opportunity to stand in front of Blaine and give him a long, appraising look. Blaine’s eyes go so wide that Darren kind of wants to laugh, say _fuck it_ , and bring him up instead, but he’s not prepared for the kinds of hell he’d catch. So he grins a little, offers a head tilt and a shrug, and moves on. 

With any sort of luck, they’ll be seeing each other again soon anyway.

*

Darren starts jittering as soon as he gets back to his dressing room — which, even though it’s got some rickety furniture and a mirror, is, by Darren’s estimation, at least one-quarter storage closet. The boxes that the merch guys dropped off in a panic just before the show blend in almost too well. They’ll be lucky if they get all the right ones on the bus later, especially after the party in the bar wraps up. Someone on the sound crew has a birthday and family not too far away, and the drive to the next city is short (relatively speaking), so it’s a great opportunity for everyone to unwind for a while.

While he’s busy mopping off sweat and changing clothes, Darren debates heading down and grabbing a drink to steady his nerves, but there’s a brusque, quiet knock on the door before he even makes up his mind. Darren opens it to find a man he doesn’t know, who says, “Your guest, Mr. Criss,” and hustles his blinking, wide-eyed doppelganger into the room. The door shuts behind him with a _bang_.

Blaine startles at the noise and glances over his shoulder. When he turns back, his smile looks like it’s just barely keeping a bigger grin from escaping. “So, hi,” he blurts out. “You, um… you wanted to meet me? Again?” He looks decidedly more disheveled than he did before the concert. Even the shellacking he gave his hair hasn’t survived entirely — it’s sort of ruffled and mussed. Both of his hands are toying with his VIP lanyard, but he drops them abruptly to twitch against his hips before they ball into anxious fists.

It’s cute, the nerves and the hair and his bow tie knocked slightly askew. It makes Darren laugh, but mostly he’s just laughing at himself, because shit, he’s apparently narcissistic enough to think something like _wow, my identical twin is pretty cute_. “Hey, yeah, thanks for agreeing to come back here again. Have a seat,” he suggests, feeling more relaxed as he gestures to the tiny, decrepit sofa. He jumps to move the merch boxes there to the floor when he sees just how little space there is for actual sitting.

Blaine perches at one end, apparently strung up too tight to even sit back against the cushions. “Thank you. And it’s really not a problem. To come back here, that is.” He eyes the boxes curiously.

“It’s merch,” Darren explains when he notices. “They didn’t print enough stuff at first, and then they printed way too much. Overcompensating or something, I don’t know. They just delivered it today, and I have no idea what the fuck we’re going to do with all of it. Feel free to take home a couple hundred, uh —” he cracks open the nearest box “— lanyards for you and your closest friends.” 

“Really?” Blaine asks, peering inside with interest.

“Sure,” Darren replies. He fishes out a handful and offers them up.

“Maybe… not that many.” Blaine carefully extricates a few lanyards from the pile, and Darren feels the movement of his fingers, but not the heat of them. He can’t help but notice that they’re shaking minutely. He doesn’t call attention to it.

Instead, he just says “excellent” as he drops the rest of the lanyards back onto the pile. Then he scoots around the boxes and flops onto the empty couch cushion, angling his body toward Blaine. “Speaking of friends, you could have brought yours with. Your friend that was with you, I mean. Boyfriend. Whichever he is.”

“ _Trent_?” Blaine asks, his voice pitching up dramatically. He twists one of the lanyards around his knuckles. “ _Not_ my boyfriend. No, um, no boyfriend here. Not at the moment. Trent was my roommate in the dorms, and I managed to rope him into —” He pauses and blanches. “I mean, he _does_ like your music. I made him listen to it enough.” He falters again, and color rises in his cheeks. “But he probably wouldn’t have gone to the VIP unless... and now he went back to the hotel. Um, sorry.”

Darren shrugs. “No need to apologize. That’s what’s so fucking rad about music — there’s something for everyone. I’m glad that he came with you anyway.”

“Oh, me too,” Blaine says, the gratitude evident in his voice. “I don’t know who would have if he hadn’t.” He’s still fidgeting with the lanyard, weaving it between his fingers, the colors bright against his skin.

“Then I’m _really_ glad that he did,” Darren replies, giving him a warm smile, hoping it will help settle him down a bit. 

“You are?” 

The doe-eyed stare is back. Darren quickly replays the last thing he said, and yeah, okay, that’s probably his fault. It’s possible that he should dial it back a notch. “Of course!” he chirps. “So, he’s your roommate? Where do you go to school? What are you studying?”

“Oh.” The question certainly works in changing the mood — Blaine shifts in his seat and drops his eyes to watch as he wraps the lanyard up in one fist. “Nothing, yet. I’m moving to New York in the fall for college. Trent was my high school roommate.” 

“That’s awesome!” Darren says, perhaps overenthusiastically. He didn’t want to make the guy feel _bad_ about himself. It’s not like it’s his fault that he’s… whatever age that he is. Which is almost certainly a legal adult one. Not that it matters. “Where are you going?”

“Tisch,” Blaine replies, straightening back up, a note of pride entering his voice. “For drama.”

Darren gapes at him. “That is _fucking awesome_ ,” he bursts out a second later. His hand comes up, almost of its own accord, to nudge against Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine’s eyes flutter down to it, and then back up. “You must be really good,” Darren adds, beaming.

“Lead singer of the Dalton Academy Warblers for three years running.” Blaine puffs up even more as he speaks. “Show choir. We went to Nationals this year and placed third.” 

“Dude,” Darren says, his voice solemn but his grin still firmly in place. “You are so impressive.”

“Thanks,” Blaine replies, all shiny-eyed again. Apparently, there isn’t any avoiding it.

So Darren shrugs. Mentally, and probably a bit physically too. After all, what’s a little flirting between weird identical twin strangers? “You keep that shit up, okay? If you want to, anyway. And even if you don’t end up performing, you can still support live performances, you know? Go to the theater and the ballet and the opera.”

“And concerts?” Blaine’s giving him a small, shy smile as he asks. It’s pretty fucking cute.

“Of course concerts!” Darren shoots back, tossing Blaine a wink and a laugh, enjoying the color it brings out in his face. “Speaking of which, how’d you like the show?”

“It was _amazing_ ,” Blaine gushes, inclining his body slightly towards Darren in his enthusiasm. “You’re so talented. I mean, I knew that already, but just seeing it live… you _really_ are.” 

And, look, Darren’s only human — he preens. “Thanks, man. That’s so nice of you to say. Was it your first show?”

“Ever?”

“No. Well, yeah, if it was. But I meant, was it your first time at one of my shows?”

Blaine smiles at him again, but it looks more relaxed now, natural, less manic. It’s a nice smile. It’s got a good curve. Darren blinks and refocuses on the conversation, because he totally just missed, like, sentences. “…so, no, _not_ my first time at a concert,” Blaine is saying. “But yes, my the first time at one of yours.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to make a dumb joke about _losing your Darren virginity_ , but it seems like it might be taking the flirting thing a step too far, and Darren manages to engage one of his rarely-used filters to stop it from slipping out. He should probably start cutting to the chase anyway. After all, he’s only been _what the fuck_ -ing about this whole situation for hours now. “It sounds like you’ve been a fan for a long time, though,” he says carefully.

Blaine ducks his head. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Has it ever occurred to you — or has anyone ever said that — you kind of look like me? That we look alike, I mean? That one of us looks like the other one?”

Blaine glances back at him. He narrows his eyes, and then they do a slow circuit of Darren’s face. “Yeah. I get that sometimes. I sort of see it.”

“Sort of?” Darren asks, feeling his eyebrows shoot up.

“So… you think so too?” 

Darren’s still staring at him incredulously. “You… don’t?”

“Well…” Blaine kind of — twitches. He shrugs and thins his lips and looks over Darren’s shoulder. “Obviously, there are a couple of similarities.”

“A couple.”

“Sure.”

“Blaine.”

The flush on Blaine’s cheeks heightens again, and he looks back into Darren’s eyes. “Yes?”

Darren finds that he’s laughing again, quietly though, and not in a mean way or anything. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” Blaine says. “Our hair is different.”

“It’s _styled_ differently,” Darren points out. He indicates the gel slathered all over Blaine’s head. “Your hair is curly under that, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits, drawing the word out reluctantly. 

“So, pretty much identical otherwise, right?”

“Our noses are different,” Blaine tries next. 

Darren cocks his head, dubious but smiling. “They are not.”

“I think they are,” Blaine says, sounding more sure of himself. 

“How are they different?”

“Well, yours is b… I mean, mine is smaller.” Blaine snaps his mouth shut when he’s done speaking, like he’s said something that he shouldn’t have.

Darren snorts. “Sorry, man. Both of our noses are kinda goofy. It’s the same nose.” 

Blaine deflates a little. “Really?”

“Here,” Darren says. “Look at my nose.” He tilts his head forward, then to the side so that Blaine is seeing it in semi-profile. “Now look at yours.”

“I can’t look at mine. Not without a mirror.”

“Well then, I will,” Darren says, laughing more, and he reaches out and playfully adjusts the point of Blaine’s chin with a fingertip. “Tilt your head… there.”

He watches Blaine’s face heat up again, around the nose that is definitely the exact same as his own. “I, uh… I honestly can’t see my nose from here.”

“Then check out mine again,” Darren orders. “You’ll see.”

When Blaine turns back to face him, Darren sees that either one or both of them — maybe just him; Blaine seems a tad skittish — have scooted closer on the couch, so much so that Blaine’s eyes start to cross a bit when he looks down at Darren’s nose. And just — what the hell. It’s not like this guy probably hasn’t imagined it. It’s not like it hasn’t been in the back of Darren’s head for a while now. It’s not like he hasn’t had more than one alcohol-soaked conversation about _would you have sex with your clone if you could_. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s had that conversation sober. And he’s not going to have sex with the guy, he just…

He leans in a tiny bit closer, the distance between them definitely too small now for casual conversation. “Can I?” he breathes. Blaine’s eyes flick up and widen, and then they drop back down. He stays where he is, and he doesn’t move or say no or do anything else, so Darren darts forward and kisses him, decisively.

Blaine goes absolutely stock still for a second or two — before breaking the contact with a gasp. 

_Fuck_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Darren exclaims. “I am so sor—” 

It’s all he gets out before he’s practically got a lapful of identical fanboy. Blaine is suddenly right next to him on the couch, gripping Darren’s shoulder with one shaking hand and cutting off Darren’s words with his mouth.

The kisses are clumsy at first, eager but full of nervous energy. Darren meets the insistent pressure of Blaine’s lips with equal enthusiasm, but he reaches around Blaine’s body at the same time to pet down his back. “Ssshhh,” he whispers, when he can get enough space in between them to speak. “Relax. Slow down.” He feels kind of spazzy too, but nothing good is going to come of this if they’re both just spazzing. When he peeks, he sees Blaine hovering close, his eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed. He’s breathing in gasps, his mouth parted, and Darren leans back over to kiss it and slip his tongue teasingly inside. 

At first, Blaine stays almost motionless, like that’s the only alternative to _freaking the fuck out_. But then his lips move tentatively against Darren’s, and then there’s a damp, hesitant hand at the side of Darren’s neck. Darren hums his encouragement and tightens his fingers against Blaine’s back. It makes Blaine shudder, and a gust of breath sweeps over Darren’s cheek, and _then_ … then they’re really starting to move together, falling into the rhythm of making out, slick and wet.

Darren kind of wants to try and, like, _think_ about the experience. He’s pretty sure he’s getting a good idea of what it’s like to make out with himself, which is cool. He and Blaine definitely use their tongues in similar ways; in fact, they keep kind of getting jammed up in each other’s mouths whey they try to make the same moves. It’s a small price to pay. Darren can tell when Blaine starts to settle in, because his grip on Darren’s shoulder goes tight, and he sneaks his other hand up to clutch the back of Darren’s head under his hair, and that matches the way that Darren’s always been told that he’s _grabby_. They even roll kisses against each other in the same beat and tempo.

It’s sort of hard to analyze, though, when it basically just feels fucking fantastic, and he really wants to focus on that.

So it’s good to know that his lips feel all soft and puffed up after they’ve been kissed for a while. It’s a fact. That’s good to know. In an objective kind of — _shit_ , Blaine is enthusiastic. He keeps squirming closer, breathing harshly and whining like he doesn’t know that he’s doing it. His hands are on the move too, and while he’s not touching Darren anywhere that might be objectionable, apparently Darren’s shoulders and his neck and the tops of his arms are all fair game.

But maybe Darren wouldn’t mind being a little bit objectionable. 

Except.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Darren mumbles, breaking away and pushing back slightly against Blaine’s chest. There’s something he probably should have clarified first. “We’re not related, are we?” Yeah, definitely something that should have been clarified _before_ the making out.

Blaine huffs out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “No, we’re not related.”

“Even though we’re identical?”

Darren can almost _feel_ Blaine’s eyes roll. “We’re not identical, and we’re not related.”

He tries to lean back in, but Darren stops him. “How do you know?”

“My mom got really into family trees a couple years ago, and she traced our whole family back as far as she could. It’s highly unlikely, anyway.”

Darren considers that for a second. It doesn’t exactly rule out the secretly-adopted-evil-twin hypothesis, but how likely is that scenario to begin with? He relaxes the tension in his arms and exhales an _okay_ across Blaine’s mouth, the word melting into a succulent kiss as Blaine tumbles back into him. Blaine moans, a small, vulnerable noise that makes Darren want to just fucking _go for it_ , but instead, he nudges Blaine back before things can really heat up. “Wait again. Wait. I was going to ask — how old are you?”

“Huh? Oh — nineteen,” Blaine answers hazily. 

Darren squints at him.

“I can show you my driver’s license,” he adds, one hand dropping from Darren’s body to reach for his back pocket. 

“No, that’s okay,” Darren mutters as he swats Blaine’s hand away. Blaine might not be twenty-six, but Darren’s willing to buy nineteen. It’s what he’d guessed earlier, and it seems legitimate enough, so Darren runs his own hand down instead — feels the slim outline of Blaine’s wallet and the handful of rounded flesh underneath — and then further, until he can grab Blaine’s thigh and use it to tug Blaine over his lap. The lanyards, in a forgotten pile on the cushions, clatter together at the motion.

The whole thing has the unintended consequence of making Blaine freeze up again, perched awkwardly and farther away than Darren would like. “Oh,” he breathes, his eyes on Darren’s chest as he slowly reaches out to rest his hands there. “Oh my god.” Each of his palms is hot and heavy and damp through the thin cotton of Darren’s t-shirt. Blaine’s just really hot, actually. Appearance wise, yeah okay, Darren’s pretty sure he can admit that now, but he’s also _really warm_ through his clothes where his thighs and ass are touching Darren’s legs, and his shirt is sticking to his back under Darren’s fingers. It’s not really much of a surprise — after all, it’s not like Darren _isn’t_ sweaty all over again, and whatever the fuck’s going on, it probably means that their bodies respond to things in the same way.

Which means.

Darren’s been more than a little hard pretty much since the kissing started, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he can’t help but glance down into Blaine’s lap, and — huh. Okay, maybe not exactly the same person, or maybe it’s just because Blaine’s younger that he looks like he’s already about to burst out of his pants, which are way too tight to be comfortable anyway. 

“I, uh — sorry,” Blaine mutters, shifting on Darren’s lap. And, okay, with the squirming and the straddling and the visuals, Darren’s right there with him in a matter of seconds. 

“For what? Being too far away? C’mere,” Darren says, tugging at him.

When Blaine shyly leans over, his VIP lanyard swings forward to bump against Darren's chest. Darren pauses to slip it over Blaine's head and drop it to rest with the others, and then he hauls Blaine closer.

Blaine comes willingly, and they’re kissing again, sloppy with open mouths and lots of tongue, Darren’s favorite. Because Blaine’s on top, he’s sort of looming over Darren, and Darren lets his head drop against the back of the couch, encouraging Blaine to follow. Blaine’s still not quite close enough, though, so Darren tucks his hands under each of Blaine’s ass cheeks and _tugs_ and — “Oh, _yeah_ ,” Darren moans, breaking the kiss and rocking his hips up. “Just like that.” 

“Oh my god,” Blaine whimpers into his temple. He redistributes his weight on his knees, shifting them out a few inches farther, before he tentatively presses himself down into Darren’s lap. 

Darren lets out a throaty hum and lifts one hand to catch hold of the back of Blaine’s neck, tugging to angle their faces back toward each other. He brings their mouths together messily, because there are times for finesse, and then there are times for eating someone’s fucking face off, and this is definitely the latter. He kneads the fingers of his other hand encouragingly into Blaine’s ass, matching the experimental rhythm that Blaine’s setting up to rut their cocks together. At the same time, he starts rolling his hips gently to meet Blaine’s body, and _this_ , yeah, this is going somewhere good.

Which makes him realize, somewhere in the fuzzy edges of his mind, that he forgot to say one other thing.

He tears himself away and rasps out, “Wait one more second.” 

Blaine freezes and his brow furrows. He’s panting, his mouth hanging open and shiny. “I’m, um… kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“Last time, I promise,” Darren says. Regretfully, he relocates his hands to Blaine’s waist. 

Before he can continue, Blaine interrupts to ask, “Did I — do something wrong? Or…?”

“ _God_ , no,” Darren reassures him quickly. “No. That was very, very right. But I just… wanted to be clear about something.”

“Okaaay…” Blaine says slowly, drawing away a little.

Darren squeezes his sides to keep him from going far. “Okay. Blaine,” he says seriously, “I have to — this can only be what it is, okay? It’s not a good time for me to date anyone right now. There’s too much going on, and I just… don’t think it would work.” He definitely should have said this earlier, but, well, better late than never. His body reacts to sex the same way it does to music: it just _moves_ , it just _does_ , and he basically forgets himself, so he _needs_ to say it now, or he won't say it at all. People seem to think he does this sort of thing a lot, but he really doesn’t, and when the situation does arise, he always wants to be upfront about it. It’s never been his intention to lead anyone on. 

“Oh.” Blaine blinks at him. “That’s okay.”

“Really?” He searches Blaine’s face, but it looks completely guileless.

“Of course! I never expected — well, I never expected this at all. But I wouldn’t have assumed _that_.”

He sounds honest, too, but Darren wants to double check just in case. “Really really?”

Blaine smiles at that. “Really.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Blaine echoes, but instead of getting back to business, he stays where he is and drops his gaze.

“So, that’s all I have to say,” Darren tries again, but Blaine stays put. “Unless… you have something?”

Blaine’s face kind of scrunches up again, and he blurts out, “I wasn’t even 100% sure you were into guys.”

Darren starts to laugh, letting his hands slide down until he can squeeze Blaine’s hips. “Wow. I must _really_ be sending some mixed messages.”

“Well,” Blaine says, shrugging with his head still down, “you’ve never really said anything either way…”

“That’s because there’s not much to say either way. Mostly I just think people are awesome. And Blaine?” He patiently jiggles one of Blaine’s wrists until Blaine looks up to meet his eyes again. “You are an awesome person.”

One corner of Blaine’s mouth tilts up, and he drops his eyes again, only to glance back up through his lashes. “Yeah?”

The worst part is that _Darren_ does that shit on purpose, but he doesn’t know if Blaine is or not. Either way, Darren shifts on the couch and tugs him forward; Blaine’s body curves in towards him easily, until his lips are hovering just above Darren’s. Darren smirks. “Oh yeah. So, are we okay?”

“Very okay,” Blaine agrees, taking the invitation offered by Darren’s upturned chin this time. 

“Good. So,” Darren says between kisses, “would… _this_ … be okay?” He reaches up and pulls on the ends of Blaine’s bow tie until it’s open and the ends are hanging down over his chest.

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath. “Yes, okay.”

Darren draws on one loose end, and the fabric whispers through Blaine’s collar until the tie comes free altogether. Darren drapes it over the arm of the couch. “And this?” He pops the first button of Blaine’s polo shirt. 

“Okay,” Blaine says faintly.

So Darren opens all three buttons, and as soon as he’s got the last one between his fingers and doesn’t need his eyes anymore, he leans forward to press his mouth to the triangle of exposed flesh, chaste at first, but then wet and open as he starts to move up one side of Blaine’s throat, his fingers trailing down in counterpoint. Blaine’s head lolls to the side and he groans quietly, the sound cutting off with a startled inhale when Darren licks under and bites his jaw. 

“What about this?” he asks, his voice low as his hands land on Blaine’s waistband. Darren thumbs the button gently and edges his fingertips down behind it.

“Yes,” Blaine gasps, right into Darren’s mouth as Darren repositions to kiss him again. He sounds shaky but sure, and Darren’s unfastening his pants almost before the word is all the way out, revealing — when Darren tears his face away from Blaine’s to look — vibrant maroon briefs and Blaine’s straining erection underneath. Which — and Darren has been very curious about this — appears to be the same shape and size as his own. 

He slides one hand into Blaine’s open zipper to run his fingers curiously over it, through the fabric of Blaine’s underwear. Blaine shudders at the touch and collapses into him, panting against Darren’s temple. “You feel good,” Darren says encouragingly, rucking Blaine’s shirt up and balling his fist against Blaine’s stomach to keep it there. He presses Blaine’s cock back into his abdomen with the flat of his hand.

Blaine hums in response, and the noise pitches up into a whine when Darren moves to dip his fingertips inside Blaine’s briefs. He rubs the head of Blaine’s cock lightly, feeling wet skin and tacky cotton. “God,” Blaine grits into his hair.

The angle is awkward, though, and Darren removes his hand, despite Blaine’s small noise of protest. “Ssshhh, don’t worry, we’ll get back to that,” Darren murmurs as he runs his hands toward Blaine’s back, tugging his shirt up all the way around as he goes. He turns his head to get his mouth on Blaine’s again, and the kiss is heated and slippery. Darren’s really not sure how much either of them are concentrating on it, because he’s clutching Blaine’s shirt against his spine now, and sliding the other hand down. When his fingertips brush elastic, he nudges them underneath. Blaine breaks away and sucks in a hard, sharp breath. 

Darren’s willing to adapt, though, so he goes back to kissing Blaine’s jaw while he slides his hand farther, finding the place where the cleft of Blaine’s ass starts and tracing it down. Blaine moves easily with the pressure of Darren’s fist on his back, shifting forward onto his knees, giving Darren better access. He works his fingers gently but firmly between the fleshy cheeks of Blaine’s ass — that matches too, he thinks, briefly and ruefully — tiny up and down motions until he finds Blaine’s hole. Blaine whines and drops his head to press his face into Darren’s neck. His entire body is trembling.

“Hey, are you okay?” Darren asks the side of his head.

Blaine’s voice is small when he says _uh huh_ , but he punctuates it with a quick nod against Darren’s throat. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Blaine breathes. He arches his back a little, pushing his ass into Darren’s hand. 

So Darren starts brushing his fingers there again. It’s a dry touch, and Darren may have fooled around more with women than men, but he knows that he can’t really take it very far without doing something about that, so he keeps things light. Just teasing touches, rubbing in with the pad of one finger, but not much. Blaine gasps into his neck and whimpers and shivers. “Wow, this really does it for you, huh?” Darren wonders. Because he definitely gets into people (including himself) doing things to his ass, but Blaine is practically useless in his lap. 

“I’ve — never done it,” Blaine blurts.

“Done what?”

“What you’re doing. And… I haven’t…” Blaine trails off as Darren slides his hand back up and away. “You don’t have to stop,” he adds quietly.

“Yes, I do,” Darren says. He starts rubbing circles into Blaine’s lower back instead. “The first time you have sex like that, it should be something special.”

“You don’t think that these are special circumstances?” Blaine retorts, sounding almost sulky.

Darren can’t help smiling a little, but he doesn’t relent. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I’m not — I mean, I’m not _completely_ a virgin,” Blaine presses. “I’ve done — other things.”

“Good,” Darren says decisively, sliding his hand farther up Blaine’s back, under his shirt and against his damp skin. “Then there’s plenty of kinky shit we can do instead.” 

Blaine is still pouting, but he glances up at that. “What do you mean?”

Darren flattens his hand between Blaine’s shoulder blades and pulls him forward. Blaine resists the tiniest bit at first, but his mouth is pliant when Darren kisses him. It accelerates quickly — or rather, _Darren_ accelerates it quickly, maybe as some sort of apology or something, licking and nipping at Blaine’s lips. The stiffness bleeds out of Blaine’s back, though, and his shoulders bow in toward Darren again, so he considers it a win. He pulls away a few seconds later with a wet _smack_. “There are so many other things,” he says huskily. “What do you want to do? What do you like? Or, like, tell me a fantasy?”

“Um.” Blaine gulps and sucks in a breath. “I don’t — like what?”

“Like something that turns you on. I’ll start.” Darren tries to think back to what his nineteen-year-old self would have found hot. And the answer was anything. Any sexual thing. “Facials,” he chooses. “Either way. I’m not picky.”

“Oh,” Blaine says faintly. He’s not meeting Darren’s eyes, but his own go suddenly round.

He doesn’t volunteer anything more, though, so Darren goes again. “Spanking. I’d rather be the one doing it, but I wouldn’t turn down the other way either. Now you.”

“Um… blowjobs?” Blaine says, his voice pitching up at the end like it’s a question. And, okay, that’s not so much something kinky as it is one of the best things ever invented, but Darren will take it if it means that Blaine’s going to start playing along.

“Mmm, yes.” Darren leans in to kiss the hinge of Blaine’s jaw, and then he tips his chin up to murmur “bondage” into Blaine's ear.

“Bondage?” Blaine squeaks.

“Not, like, hardcore stuff,” Darren clarifies, but only because he hasn’t really tried any hardcore stuff and it’s not like that’s even feasible or on the table right now. He continues to mouth at the hollow of Blaine’s throat, speaking in between kisses. “Just wrists or whatever. Your turn.”

“I’ve always liked the idea of — of —” Blaine’s breath hitches and his fingers clench on Darren’s shoulders “— well, someone telling me what to do.”

He squirms a lot after he says it, and the lanyards jangle together next to them on the couch.

Darren blinks his eyes open and straightens up. “I think I have an idea,” he says.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

*

Which is how Darren ends up naked, sitting on the old slat wooden chair in his dressing room and looking expectantly at Blaine, who had just turned around and frozen halfway across the room with several lanyards dangling from his fist.

Deliberately, watching Blaine the entire time, Darren slides his knees apart, until his ankles are lined up with the legs of the chair. He licks his lips and says, “Tie them.”

Blaine’s eyes drop to where Darren’s cock is jutting out, hard as fuck after how much time they’d spent making out and touching and undressing each other on the couch. He’s definitely not alone. Somehow, Blaine’s briefs are still on, and he’s tenting them impressively. Which means that Darren basically just thought of his own dick as impressive, and really, this whole experience is making him wonder if deep down, he has a narcissistic streak a mile wide.

“…What?” Blaine asks hoarsely, distracting Darren from his thoughts. 

“Tie my ankles to the chair,” Darren elaborates. He gets the words out with a straight face, but he can’t help the grin that steals over his expression when he watches Blaine’s eyes bulge. He should probably try to be more serious, but fuck it, it isn’t like he’s been bossing Blaine around anyway, not like _that_. Mostly, he’s been groaning out things like _you should take these off_ and _touch me_ and _do that again, just like that_ and then, finally, _why don’t you grab a few of those lanyards_ , and Blaine has been nothing but quick and eager to respond. 

Blaine’s eyes fly up to check his face. “Really?”

Darren quirks an eyebrow and, instead of saying anything, drops his hands to his sides, shifts them back, and clutches his left wrist in his right hand behind the chair. 

“ _Ohmygodokay_ ,” Blaine rushes out. He hurries across the room and stoops in front of the chair, dropping the lanyards beside it with a clatter before separating one to loop around Darren’s left ankle. Darren lets out a quiet _huh_ when he feels it tighten against his skin. Really, this whole thing is going better than he had even imagined when he’d drawn Blaine into a series of increasingly fevered kisses and peeled off his polo shirt, revealing a far smoother chest than Darren’s own, which Blaine had blushingly and unconvincingly claimed that he didn’t wax.

It doesn’t take long before there are two lanyards around each of Darren’s ankles, securing him to the chair and forcing him to keep his legs parted while Blaine works busily behind him. He's looping a third lanyard around Darren’s wrists — the first one is holding them together, and the second one has them fastened to the slats at the back of the chair. It’s more than enough to immobilize Darren's arms, and he's pretty sure that Blaine’s just into it enough now that the last one is for fun or for show. Or, as he had informed Darren in a wrecked voice, “just to make sure.” Blaine tugs experimentally at the knots when he’s done with them.

When he feels Blaine testing the restraints, Darren automatically twitches against them with his arms and legs, and his breath catches when the lanyards hold tight. Heat floods into the space low down under his belly, and he arches away from the back of the chair with a groan — or tries to. There’s not very far to go in this position; his shoulders stay put while his lower back rolls forward. _Jesus fuck_ , this is the hottest motherfucking thing he’s done in ages, and he’s going to be doubly upset if Blaine just uses the opportunity to, like, take skeezy pictures of him to post all over the Internet. 

Though that’s hard to imagine when he hears Blaine’s voice come haltingly from behind him: “Um, good?”

“ _So_ good,” Darren moans. “Get back out here.”

A light touch runs up his arms, and then Blaine reappears, hovering and shuffling a little too far away, his eyes huge and dark. His chest heaves and his hands fidget, touching his hips, then his elbows, and then finally each other, his fingers restlessly twisting together. He stays where he is, though, so Darren angles his face up and says, “Just c’mere and kiss me already.”

Technically, it’s another order, and it has the desired effect: Blaine is right there right away, leaning over Darren and steadying himself with a hand on Darren’s shoulder as he kisses him. Darren doesn’t waste any time making it dirty, swiping his tongue eagerly across Blaine’s lips until they open, then pushing up inside. Blaine’s got a really good mouth, nice and warm and wet, but Darren only allows himself to enjoy it for a moment or two before he retreats, keeping his own lips parted wide and hoping that Blaine will take the hint.

There’s nothing to worry about; Blaine does, with gusto, kissing Darren hard and open, forcefully enough that Darren’s head is thrust back. _Shit_ , they are good at this. Unthinkingly, Darren goes to clasp a hand at the back of Blaine’s head, but all he manages to do is jerk his arm uselessly against the restraint of the lanyards. It makes his dick twitch, and he strains up again and lets out a muffled groan, his mouth full of Blaine’s tongue. 

Blaine draws back. “Are you okay?”

“Really fucking okay,” Darren says. He stretches his neck up to give Blaine one fast, dry kiss and issues his final request: “Blow me.”

Blaine’s breath hitches up in his throat, but before Darren can even ask if it’s all right, Blaine is scrambling to the floor and putting his face in Darren’s lap. He doesn’t start right away, though — first, he loops an arm over each of Darren’s thighs and just _looks_. Darren can feel Blaine’s breath on his dick, and he very valiantly doesn’t thrust his hips up in that direction. When Blaine finally does move, after several seconds that feel much longer than they probably are, it’s to lift Darren’s cock to a better angle and lick carefully around the head. It isn’t what Darren’s expecting, not after how fucking intensely they’d just been making out, but he squirms and whines all the same. He presses his knees out to spread his thighs even farther, his skin shifting under the lanyards around his ankles.

Blaine takes advantage of it, wiggling in a bit closer. His tongue comes out, and he draws it more boldly across and over the head of Darren’s cock, which is quite a fucking visual. Darren grunts and tightens every muscle he has that might help him keep his ass on the chair. He sees the flicker of Blaine’s eyelashes as he glances up briefly, and then he digs the flat of his tongue into the slit, obviously tasting the precome there. It’s too much, and Darren _does_ buck up minutely, his dick bumping into Blaine’s lips. Blaine pauses, then slides them forward to suckle the tip of it softly, almost like a kiss. “Yeah,” Darren breathes.

The gentle pressure recedes, and Darren looks down to see that the corners of Blaine’s mouth have turned up. He reshifts between Darren’s legs and leans in to get his mouth closer to the base of Darren’s dick, where he starts an exploration up and down, licking and kissing and dragging his lips when things get wet enough. Darren shuffles his hips forward and lets his eyes droop shut, continuing to make noises of encouragement even though it’s basically fucking torture. Fucking _awesome_ torture.

And then, after one particularly long swipe up, Blaine just keeps going, opens his mouth, and drops back down. It’s not far, but the head of Darren’s cock and a little bit more are encased in the damp heat of Blaine’s mouth, and his lips are making a ring around it, and Darren’s eyes shoot back open as he yanks uselessly against the lanyards, wishing again that he could get a hand on the back of Blaine’s head. He looks down instead and, okay. So that’s what a cock looks like disappearing into his own mouth. 

That’s what his _own cock_ looks like disappearing into his _own mouth_.

Look, all right, Darren’s considered the possibility of sucking his own dick before. Who hasn’t? Probably only people without dicks. And maybe some of them have imagined having a dick and sucking it. Darren really doesn’t know. He just always thought that the logistics had seemed — problematic. Unless he had someone to help him or something. Or an unrelated identical twin going down on him while he’s tied to a chair. Which isn’t exactly the same, but it’s fucking scalding hot anyway. 

Blaine pulls back a bit, and then draws Darren in a little deeper, sucking lightly and using his tongue. “Fuck, that feels good, man,” Darren says, his voice coming out rough and raspy. “Keep going.” Blaine hums his assent, and it makes Darren twist his body against his ties with a sharp grunt.

The rhythm that Blaine gets into at first is sort of — tentative. Too careful, or slow, or light, or something. Which isn’t to say that it doesn’t feel fucking fantastic, but Darren finds himself whining and rocking his hips up shallowly, searching for more. Blaine sucks in a surprised breath through his nose when Darren thrusts farther in, but after that, he gets a firmer hold on the base of Darren’s dick and starts using it to work in tandem with his mouth, jerking up to meet the circle of his lips. “Yeah, like that,” Darren groans, and everything about Blaine kind of — _loosens_. He squirms closer, adjusts his head to find a better angle, and starts working in earnest.

It gets sloppy, and Darren likes sloppy blowjobs even more than he likes sloppy making out. It’s wet-sloppy — there’s saliva actually running out of Blaine’s mouth now, down Darren’s cock to slick the skin under Blaine’s fingers. And it’s just… _sloppy_ -sloppy, where Blaine doesn’t seem like he’s worrying anymore about whether he’s keeping up a perfect rhythm (he’s not) or whether he’s doing everything right (he so fucking is). He tries to slip his free hand under his chin to reach Darren's balls, but there just isn't enough room, so he only brushes them lightly with his fingertips before refocusing on Darren's cock.

Darren unravels under the attention, rambling out strings of words that probably don’t make much sense and moaning and rolling his hips up into Blaine’s mouth, a little more energetically now. Although Blaine never takes him _deep_ deep, he more than makes up for it in enthusiasm. Darren fights the urge to let his head loll back over and over again because he wants to keep watching Blaine, who looks so focused and good with his eyelashes down over his flushed cheeks and his lips swollen red. 

Darren’s always had this problem where he kind of wishes that blowjobs could last forever, but he’s super impatient to come at the same time. And really, they’ve been ramping up to this for a while, so it’s not all that long before he _can’t_ watch anymore, because his eyes are slamming shut and his jaw is going slack and he’s huffing out something that’s a cross between a grunt and a whine with every breath. “Blaine,” he manages to gasp out. “Blaine, you sh- _huh_ , I —” Which doesn’t _really_ get the point across, so he hopes that Blaine knows what he’s doing when he redoubles his efforts. 

Which is all it takes to get Darren off. He yanks hard against the lanyards as he comes with a hoarse, muffled shout, the top of the chair cutting hard into his inner arms when his body tries to curl in. There’s nowhere to go, though, and the motion writhes its way down Darren’s body until he jerks his hips, thrusting his cock into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine pulls quickly back, but not off, continuing to suck and swallow while Darren dissolves into babbling. “Yeah, yeah, _god_ , baby, that’s so good, _fuck_.” 

Blaine keeps Darren’s dick in his mouth until Darren slumps, and then he leans back, using his arm to wipe his face of spit and the semen that had escaped his lips. “Wow,” he whispers.

“No shit _wow_ ,” Darren pants. 

“Yeah?” Blaine asks, sounding almost shy, which is pretty ridiculous, because he just sucked the shit out of Darren’s cock.

“ _Hell_ yeah.” Darren lifts his head to smile lazily down at Blaine. “That was _awesome_.”

“Good,” Blaine replies. His cheeks are pink, but it might be from the exertion. “Um, thanks.”

Darren shuffles to try and sit up a little, sending a twinge through his shoulders. “Hey, you wanna untie me?”

“Oh,” Blaine says, still sounding dazed. “Sure.” 

He wobbles to his feet, perfectly displaying the way he’s still rock-hard inside his briefs, and circles the chair to pluck at the knots securing the lanyards around Darren’s wrists. When they come free, Darren rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms forward, inadvertently putting them right in position to grab Blaine around his waist when he reappears. He makes a startled noise when Darren tugs him closer, nuzzling into the soft curve of Blaine’s abdomen, so similar to his own. “Now what about you?” he murmurs, kissing and then biting the skin there. 

“Um,” Blaine says, sounding strangled, “if you keep doing that — or anything — that’ll probably, uh, do it.” His fingers curl into Darren’s bare, aching shoulders. 

Darren laughs and releases the skin between his teeth, hoping he left a mark. “Well then, take a few deep breaths and think about baseball while you help me untie my feet, because I wanna return the favor.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine grits. Darren glances up to see him pressing his eyes shut and locking his jaw, and he actually does breathe in heavily through his nose, like he’s following Darren’s advice.

“Hang in there,” Darren adds, grinning impishly. He bends forward to start working on his left ankle, and Blaine stoops to untie the right a few seconds later. The lanyards clatter to the ground around his feet, and as soon as they do, Darren reaches out to get a grip on Blaine’s face and haul it close for a hard kiss, shoving his tongue straight into Blaine’s mouth. He manages to navigate both of them to their feet while still kissing, and _fucking shit_ that was smooth. “Couch,” he mumbles into it, encouraging Blaine to start walking backwards. Darren takes one step and —

His foot comes down right on the metal clip at the end of one of the lanyards. “ _Motherfucker_ ,” he hisses, stumbling to the side. “God _damn_ it. That was like stepping on a Lego. Fuck!” Okay, so that was significantly less smooth.

Blaine keeps a steadying hand on Darren’s elbow throughout the ordeal, and when Darren manages to look up at him, his eyes are bright and he’s digging his teeth into his upturned lip. Darren quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, so you think that’s funny?”

“Definitely not,” Blaine says, but he’s grinning. Well, if nothing else, Darren’s misfortune seems to have taken the edge off for him.

“Because it looks like you think it’s funny,” Darren continues. Blaine dips his head and shrugs, still smiling as he glances back up in — if Darren does say so himself — a rather coquettish manner. So Darren does the only logical thing: he all but tackles Blaine back onto the couch, taking him by surprise and shocking out the laugh that he’d been holding in. The couch is still as small as it ever was, so they end up flopped kind of diagonally across it with their legs dangling. Darren gets one knee on the cushions so that he can hold himself up over Blaine and bury his face into the juncture of Blaine’s neck and shoulder, licking and sucking and biting with enthusiasm. Blaine’s laughter dies immediately as his hands fly to Darren’s back. 

Darren works down Blaine’s body quickly. Under different circumstances, he would probably take more time, but he’s not sure that Blaine’s going to hang on for that level of buildup. On top of that, even though he assumes everyone has guessed or figured out why he’s not at the party, he has no idea how long it’ll be until they’re drunk enough to start knocking and catcalling at the door. He’s probably lucky that they haven’t already.

He focuses on things that he knows would work for him, betting that they’ll make Blaine twist and writhe and gasp, and they do. He scrapes his teeth on Blaine’s collarbone and bites Blaine’s nipples and uses his tongue to wet Blaine’s skin. When he runs into the waistband of Blaine’s briefs, he lifts his head to see that Blaine seems to have given up on doing anything other than clutching his hair and whining _oh god oh my god please oh god_ under his breath. Darren nuzzles into the side of Blaine’s cock through the underwear, and his voice pitches louder and higher. “ _Oh god_.” 

Blaine smells good here, and familiar, and Darren suddenly just needs to see and know. And touch. He maneuvers the fabric down past Blaine’s dick as carefully as he can, but then he’s yanking and Blaine’s kicking, and Darren’s sliding off the couch to get in better position. Blaine’s cock is, as expected, exactly the same size and shape as Darren’s, and it’s flushed to the same of shade of purplish-red. Maybe Darren shouldn’t be so eager to get his mouth on it, but he is, so he does. He licks up the shaft a few times, and then starts sinking down over the head. Blaine’s whole body has gone absolutely rigid, and although he’s not saying anything anymore, his breath is loud and shuddering. 

Which isn't any good at all, because Darren likes feedback. He snakes a hand up Blaine’s torso to find an arm, and then tugs it until he can guide Blaine’s hand to the back of his head. Blaine just rests it there, so Darren covers it with his own, weaving Blaine’s fingers into his hair and humming his approval when Blaine catches on and gets a better grip. Darren sucks harder in response, gleefully noting when Blaine starts rolling his hips up in little aborted thrusts. With another _hmmm_ , Darren works one hand in between Blaine’s ass and the couch, squeezing and lifting one cheek. Blaine whimpers and complies, rocking his dick tentatively into Darren’s mouth.

And Darren fucking works him, until Blaine is keening and his hand is a tight, tugging fist in Darren’s hair. Then he pulls off.

“What are you —” Blaine gasps. He tries to guide Darren’s head back down.

Darren doesn’t let him, instead repositioning himself farther over Blaine’s lap. At the same time, he starts jerking Blaine’s cock in a firm rhythm. It’s not the ideal, but it’ll work. “Uh uh,” he says. “I saw you when I mentioned facials. C’mon.”

Blaine’s fingers go even tighter in Darren’s hair. They actually kind of hurt, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. “You mean…?” he whispers.

“I mean come on my face,” Darren growls. His hand speeds.

Blaine’s body stiffens against the couch. “Oh my god _oh my god_ ,” he cries, and Darren feels something warm hit his cheek, narrowly missing his eye. The next pulse hits his face too, down lower and dripping onto his lips. The third one glances off his chin, and the rest spills out over his fist. He’s curious and swipes his tongue out before Blaine’s even gone still on the couch. It tastes a lot like his own, but not exactly the same. Huh. 

He doesn’t get a chance to ponder it very much, because Blaine finally droops against the cushions. Darren looks up past his heaving chest to see that he’s got one arm tossed across his eyes. “Aw, dude, you didn’t even watch that?” he asks, letting his pout bleed into his voice. 

“Oh, no,” Blaine says faintly. “I mean… I watched.” 

“Good,” Darren replies, his voice cheerful, “because that was a grade-A come shot.” 

Blaine’s whole body gives a twitch, and he makes a weak, muffled sound. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

Darren smirks. “No, thank _you_. Hey.” He nudges Blaine’s leg. “You should watch this too.”

“Hmm?” 

“Look.” 

Darren waits until Blaine slides his arm back to reveal his cracked eyes. When he’s sure that he’s got Blaine’s attention, Darren lifts his hand, brings it to his mouth, and drags his tongue into the crease of his thumb, then up the outside of his forefinger, collecting come. Blaine shudders again, and groans, and drops his head back against the arm of the couch. “Oh my god.”

Chuckling, Darren continues to lick off his hand, humming a little but making less of a show of it now that Blaine’s not _really_ watching. “You taste good.”

“I do?” Blaine asks skeptically. 

He’s peeking again, so Darren sucks the tip of his thumb into his mouth and winks before answering. “Sure. I mean, I’m not going to choose come over, like, pizza but… well, actually, maybe I would. Because that would mean I’m having sex. But for a _meal_ …” He trails off when he realizes Blaine is laughing. “What?”

“I don’t know. That’s just… really bizarre pillow talk.”

Darren grins and fishes around on the floor until he comes up with the gray t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. “Technically, there are no pillows, so I’m improvising,” he says, wiping his hand and the places on his face where his tongue couldn’t reach. When he’s done with that, he gently starts cleaning Blaine off as well.

Blaine startles and props himself up on his elbows. “Oh, don’t ruin your shirt.”

“Already done. No big deal. It’s just a t-shirt.” Darren shrugs. “I’m pretty sure there’s a whole pile of them in one of these boxes. The turquoise ones if I’m lucky.” He balls up the shirt and tosses it aside, then grabs Blaine’s legs to move them over, making room for him to sit at the end of the couch. Blaine pulls himself upright too, so they’re next to each other but not touching. He’s fidgety, and he doesn’t meet Darren’s smile. 

“So, uh, you probably have to get going,” Blaine says, his eyes down and sweeping over the floor. “And Trent’s going to wonder what happened to me. I’ll get out of your hair just as soon as I… find everything.” He stoops to grab his briefs, and frowns when he looks at them — most likely at the fact that they’re noticeably damp. By the time Darren reaches out to grab his wrist, he’s halfway to standing so he can step into them.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Darren admonishes. “Where’s the fire? Can I at least kiss you again before you run away?”

Blaine perches uneasily back on the couch. “Don’t you need to leave soon? You have a show tomorrow, right?”

“We-ell,” Darren says, glancing up at a clock on the opposite wall, “yeah. But it’s not like the bus is pulling out in the next ten minutes. C’mon. Give us a kiss. Plenty of time.” He puckers up obscenely, and it works, because Blaine laughs. 

He also drops his underwear back to the ground and scoots closer so that Darren can feel his body heat. Darren gives Blaine and easy smile, and he reaches out to cup his cheek as they fall into a lazy kiss. Then another, and another. “Thank you,” Darren says as they part, his voice practically a purr. “You were amazing.”

“Oh, you probably say that to all the —” Blaine falters briefly “— people.” 

“Only the amazing ones,” Darren says with a grin. 

“Thanks,” Blaine replies, but his smile is halfhearted.

“Hey, none of that. What we did here…” Darren trails off as he glances over at the lanyards strewn across the floor around the chair. “It was pretty fucking spectacular, okay? That was something awesome. And I’m glad I got to do it with you.”

“Me too,” Blaine says, looking all shy again. “But you don’t even know me.”

“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. You’re a talented dude who’s going to take Broadway by storm. You have excellent musical taste, obviously. Might need glasses, though.” 

Blaine snorts and rolls his eyes, which Darren responds to with an enthusiastic dry-mouthed _smack_ of a kiss. “Okay. Get yourself dressed, and I’m going to call you a cab.”

So Darren unearths his phone, and Blaine finds all the pieces of his outfit, and all too soon, it’s time for Darren to spirit them past the party (still in full swing, from the sounds of it) and see Blaine to the door like the gentleman that he is. Blaine’s got his handful of lanyards — some are from the floor, and Darren couldn’t help but notice that he tucked those into his pocket separately from the rest — and a one-size-too-small turquoise t-shirt that matches the one stretched across Darren’s chest. Darren’s just got his memories, but he might swipe a few of those lanyards too.

Darren cracks the door to that opens into the alley while they wait. The sidewalks are damp outside from the on-off rain that’d been happening all day, and in almost no time at all, a taxi sluices through a puddle outside.

“So, I guess this is it,” Darren says.

Blaine nods, smiling in a tight-lipped kind of way. “I guess so.”

Drawing him just out of sight of the door, Darren kisses him one more time. “It was nice to meet you, Blaine.” And then, because he seriously just can’t fucking help himself sometimes, he adds, smirking, “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine mutters, drifting towards the door, but he’s laughing. “We might look alike, but I’m not so sure our minds work the same.”

Darren points at him. “So you admit it! We _are_ identical!”

Blaine grins and shrugs. “Bye, Darren. It was nice to meet you too.”

“Next time, I’ll see you on Broadway, Blaine… uh…” Huh. All that, and he doesn’t even know the guy’s last name.

“Anderson,” Blaine supplies. He’s at the door.

“Then I’ll see you on Broadway, Blaine Anderson!”

Blaine gives him a bright-eyed smile and one last, long look, and then he’s gone. From outside, there’s the sound of a car door slamming and the cab pulling away from the curb. Darren leans against the wall and shakes his head. 

*

When he wakes up the next morning, Darren almost wonders if he hallucinated the whole thing. The hickeys on his chest and the picture he took of the crowd — with Blaine’s face grinning and peeking out between the arms of the girls in the front row — prove him wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Blaine moves to New York and meets Kurt and they fall in love and live happily ever after, but Blaine can always look back fondly on the day when he sucked Darren Criss's dick and came on his face.
> 
> Or, if you prefer, Blaine moves to New York and attends Tisch. Then, he's lucky enough to land a fabulous role right out of school, and Darren comes to see him perform, unbeknownst to Blaine. And then surprises him backstage. OR Darren attends one of his student performances at Tisch. Choose your own adventure!
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
